


Veilchen

by colazitron



Series: Isak and Even's Adventures in Cohabitation [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: (sort of), Episode Tag, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, dent de fucking lion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 02:44:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10981707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: A dandelion's marginally better than a black eye.





	Veilchen

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I am in no way affiliated with the characters depicted herein or their creator. I made all of this up in my head and am sharing it purely for entertainment reasons.
> 
>  **A/N:** "Veilchen" is German for "violet" (the flower) and also what a black eye is coloquially referred to as. In Norwegian that's blåveis (liver-/kidney-/pennywort); thanks, [imminentinertia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/imminentinertia)! Does your language use flower comparisons for black eyes too? Let me know lol.
> 
> Also, I wrote this before we saw their flat and learned that Isak apparently doesn't know how to make tea, so. Ignore that. ;)

Isak avoids his own reflection, and if it were at all doable, he'd avoid Even's eyes on him as well.

He knows not to take medical advice from the internet, okay? He's not an idiot, and minor concussion or not, his brain works fine, thankyouverymuch. Even's not an idiot either, so he knows this just as well. They're both a little rattled and still feeling a little small though, so Isak thinks they can be forgiven for a temporary lapse in judgement and occasionally frowning down at their phones because _permanent brain damage_ sounds absolutely terrifying until you remind yourself you're reading an article about professional boxers pummelling each other's heads.

Isak can practically see Even's thoughts spiralling while he's staring at the screen of his phone, a pillow wedged between his back and the wall, pretending he's not doing what Isak knows he's been doing on and off for the last few days now. Isak lets him and gets up to make them some tea, a little more gingerly than he would have liked, if only because it makes Even look up briefly and his frown deepen. To Even's credit he doesn't say anything, just lets Isak get on with it.

_Minor concussion. If you take it easy, you'll be fine. You're young and healthy._

Isak's run the doctor's words around his head so often her voice has run a groove in his memory, probably. He repeats them to himself anyway, because they're steadying. She has a degree in this stuff. She's probably seen a lot of kids like him come in with a half-assed story about how he clearly got punched in the face. She definitely knows more about this stuff than Dr. Google does, and Isak is making himself believe her. (He's also making himself take it easy, which ironically isn't easy at all when you're inching close to your 10% absence limit and _someone_ – ahem, Sana – is freezing you out.)

When he sets the tea down on the floor by their bed – a mattress on a slatted frame, technically – Even's still looking at his phone, so Isak plucks it out of his hand with a sigh.

Even looks guilty when he looks up.

“I'm fine,” Isak says.

Even groans and sinks down onto the bed, running an agitated hand over his face before trying to smile up at Isak. It only fails about halfway, so Isak smiles back and watches it bloom into something firmer. God, but Even's pretty when he smiles.

“I know. I know, it's just… ugh. I'm not good at sitting around and waiting things out,” Even says.

Isak nods and lies down with him, head on Even's shoulder, arm across his chest. Even's hand finds its way into Isak's hair almost automatically, and the low tingle of Even's fingers running through his hair and across his scalp is soothing a headache Isak hasn't even noticed forming.

“The doctor said I'd be fine,” Isak reminds him. “It wasn't even that hard a punch.”

“Excuse me, I had to watch you stumble around all dazed, okay?” Even protests.

Isak gives him a squeeze with the arm slung across him, and a kiss on the chin.

“I know,” he says.

Even sighs.

“You made tea?” he asks.

“'s still too hot. Gotta wait a bit,” Isak says, relaxed and a little drowsy cuddled up with Even like this. They're both unbearable wimps when it comes to hot things.

Even sighs again, a deep and slow inhale-exhale that moves Isak's head with it. Isak tangles the string of Even's hoodie around his fingers.

“Okay,” Even says.

“Okay,” Isak echoes.

They fall asleep and the tea goes cold. It's okay. They have it for breakfast the next day, even if it's a bit too bitter and a bit too stale to be really good.

 

The day they go back to school Isak stares himself in the face in the bathroom mirror. He knows the bruise has lessened considerably, and he knows that _a black eye, like any other bruise, can take one or two weeks to heal completely_ , thanks Dr. Google. Still. He's not particularly keen on walking around school with a shiner; he remembers when Jonas had to do it last year, okay? It makes people too curious, and Isak and Even have only just stopped being one of the top five topics of gossipy conversation. Isak's not a fan of having people stare at him.

He gets dressed quickly, keeps his eyes downcast as he brushes his teeth, and runs a comb through his hair without checking to see if anything's out of place. It's not like it'll matter much next to the lovely discolouration around his eye.

“Got everything?” Even asks as he stands by the door, waiting for Isak to slip on his shoes.

“Yeah. Got your keys?” Isak asks back.

“I don't forget them that often,” Even protests, and Isak only grins at him.

“Sure,” he says, pulling his own keys from the lock and shooing Even outside.

It feels strange, some days, how not strange it feels to live here. How completely used he already is to the new walk to the tram, the new grocery store a few streets over, the way you have to pull on the door a little to lock it. It happened when he moved in with Eskild and Linn officially as well, but Isak thought it was just the relief of not being at home anymore then. Apparently it's just human adaptability.

Even's quietly walking next to him, palm of his hand grazing the fluffy, yellow tops of the dandelion blooming all over the sloped side of the road. Isak smiles automatically at seeing him this relaxed. It's good, that they both took some time off, even if Isak tried insisting Even go to school and leave him at home by himself. It's really only now, watching Even's absent-minded smile, that he fully realises how tense they've both been.

Isak reaches out and grabs Even's hand, grinning at him when he looks over.

“What's that for?” Even asks, playful twinkle in his eyes.

Isak shrugs. “Cause I can.”

Even nods wisely, and then presses a dandelion bloom against Isak's nose, rubbing at his skin for half a second before Isak jerks back in surprise.

“Fuck off, what was that for?” he complains, huffing a breath through his nose to get rid of the ticklish feeling there.

“Cause I can,” Even parrots, laughing when Isak rolls his eyes. “At least now people will stare at your yellow nose instead.”

Isak immediately reaches up and wipes the pollen off his nose.

“You're an idiot,” he says.

Even gets that unholy grin on his face that Isak knows means trouble. He goes to pull his hand from Even's and step back, but Even holds fast and quickly plucks another dandelion bloom.

“Fucking hell,” Isak yelps, shielding his face with his other arm while he ducks his head and tries to evade the yellow blur coming for his face.

Even laughs, and Isak can't help but join in. Even's grip on his hand is a bit too tight, and the pull on his shoulder is a bit too rough at one point. He's pretty sure he stepped on Even's toes tying to avoid his hand, and that he's got a streak of yellow on his jacket from a particularly aggressive lunge of Even's. But his heart feels light, and Even's laugh is his favourite song, so.

“You're an ass,” he says, when Even finally lets up and starts tugging them along in the direction of the tram station again.

Even only shrugs. “Just trying to help.”

“Help. Sure.”

Even drops the messed up flower and plucks a fresh one, so Isak snatches it from his hand before he can try and “help” some more.

“You realise there are literally hundreds more, right?” Even asks with a laugh, gesturing vaguely at the dandelions blooming all along the side of the road.

In answer, Isak pushes the bloom in his hand against Even's nose, grinning when he laughs again before wiping the pollen off.

“Okay, fine,” Even concedes. “You win.”

“Of course I do,” Isak grins, and reaches up to stuff the dandelion behind his ear.

“Is this like putting you enemy's severed head on a spike?” Even asks, watching him do it.

“Exactly like that,” Isak confirms. “Only way less gross.”

He turns his head for Even to see and then bats his eyelashes at him mock-coquettishly.

“You're a lot less gross than a severed head,” Even agrees.

Isak gives him a shove with his free hand, feeling the pull of Even stumbling back a step in his other one, fingers still laced with Even's.

“I'm gorgeous and you're lucky to call yourself my boyfriend,” Isak insists.

Predictably, the teasing grin melts off Even's face.

“Yeah,” he says and leans in for a quick kiss.

“Sap,” Isak accuses, but he's grinning and brushing another kiss against Even's lips before pulling back. Not like anyone could blame him, he thinks. That look on Even's face is more potent than a drug.

“Yep,” Even agrees easily. “We're also going to be late if you keep standing here making me compliment you.”

“Making you!” Isak exclaims, falling into step beside Even easily. “As if.”

The flower feels odd in his hair, and it keeps slipping, but Even gets that amused twinkle in his eyes every time he catches sight of it, so Isak only adjusts it and keeps it where it is. Whatever. He can wear a flower in his hair if he wants to. It is a marginally better reason to have people staring at him.

 

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Comments?


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